Broken
by Adolescent Rage
Summary: It isn't easy to shatter his psyche. But when it happens, it will be almost impossible to piece it back together.
1. Prologue : Scattered

My first story! Yay! I hope everyone enjoys reading it!

**Prologue: Scattered  
**

_He had been gone ninety one days._

I ran.

My chest was constricting, making it hard to breathe. The world around me felt like it was closing in on me. My legs hurt, my side was cramping, my head was pounding, my heart was doing jumping jacks.

_Two thousand one hundred and eighty four hours._

I don't know how long I ran or how far. I could see the building looming in front of me as I neared and I ran faster. Emotions struck me. Joy, despair, anger, relief. I didn't know which one to grab onto. Didn't know which one to embrace. I felt like I was spinning, drowning, dying, dancing.

_One hundred, thirty one thousand, and forty minutes._

I didn't stop running even when I hit the door. Just barreled right through into the lobby. Pale faces stared at me in confusion and fear. I ignored them all and ran. I ignored the voices who yelled at me to stop, avoided the hands who reached out to grab me, blocked everyone out of my mind.

I ran.

Up the stairs, through winding hallways. Past people in wheelchairs, past rooms filled with the sick and injured, past children and old men.

I ran.

_Seven million, eight hundred and sixty two thousand and four hundred seconds._

His room came into view. I could see a rather large man speaking to a doctor in the hallway. Their voices were low and inaudible. He turned at the sound of my foot steps and I recognized the face of Tank.

He was a big man, probably one of the biggest I would come to meet. He was dressed in all black - _work clothes_ - and his face was hard, impassive, intimidating. He gave off a terrifying vibe but anyone who knew him could tell you that he wasn't as tough as he appeared to be.

Surprise lit up his face before it was quickly followed by anger. I suspected as much. He had called me as soon as the news had came in. Then, as if he was playing some cruel prank, he had ordered me to stay away. No explanation, no nothing. Just a terse message and he hung up. I felt almost betrayed. It was like telling your little kid you had baked brownies but that he couldn't have any.

Tank should have known I wouldn't have listened.

He should have known that I wouldn't - _that I could not_- stay away.

_Gone. For three months. Proclaimed dead._

"Stephanie, no-!" Tank was reaching for me but I was already past him. I was too scared and mad and confused to stop and listen to him give me a lame ass explanation of why I wasn't allowed in.

_Ninety days._

When I saw him, lying in bed with an IV in his arm and bandages wrapped around his limbs, I burst into laughter. He looked horrible. Scars, blood, greenish tinge to his skin, monitors snaked around his body. He looked close to death.

No sight could have made me any happier.

_He was back._

Tank was behind me and he was saying something but I wasn't listening. I couldn't listen.

Ranger was here. He was _here_.

Then I was crying. Because he was hurt. Because he looked so peaceful lying there. Because I had missed him. Because he had returned.

His eyelids flickered open and they instantly snapped to me. I felt sadness and pain and happiness clutch my throat and I couldn't speak.  
Tank was grabbing me and I was pushing him away. His voice was low in my ear but I just could not hear him over all the emotion welling in my body, deafening out all sound.

I stepped forward. Tank pulled me back forcibly. I ripped my arm out of his grip and ran to Ranger's side. He fidgeted, darted his gaze here and there, opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His cold hand clasped around my wrist hard and his eyes seemed panicked.

My heart began to beat wildly at his touch and I almost seeped right into him to reunite my body with his. I felt resentment swirl in my chest, aimed at Tank. Why had he been trying to rob me of seeing him? What could have possibly worried Tank enough to try and cut me off from this man, this man I loved, this man I had missed so terribly. I wasn't going to hurt him. I would be gentle. I would be here for him. I would tell him every second of every day that I loved him. That I needed him. I would apologize for not confessing my feelings sooner. For having this epiphany only because something terrible had happened. That Morelli and I were done and I-

Suddenly, an intense, searing pain exploded in my face. My vision became distorted. I started to fall. Stars danced in front of my eyes. I was blacking out.

I felt someone lift me up and drag me out. Before the door closed, I caught a glimpse of Ranger thrashing around in the bed and four doctors surrounded him, holding him down. Restraints were being applied to his wrists, a needle was stabbed into his neck.

It was only until I heard Tank speaking sternly to me -_ trying to determine if I could see him, that I'd be okay, why hadn't I listened to him?_ - did I realize that Ranger had hit me.


	2. Chapter One : Crumbling

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! So happy you liked it.

**Chapter One : Crumbling**

_o0o0o0o0o0o_

_Tank_

_0o0o0o0o0oo0_**  
**

Damn.

This is what I wanted to avoid.

I couldn't lie. Some -okay, _the majority_- of this was my fault. But Stephanie Plum wasn't absolved of her actions either.

I had told her - damn near _ordered_ her- to steer clear of Ranger.

But, of course, she didn't listen. Because when that woman had her mind set on something then it was going to happen. Whether it was jumping out of windows, tracking down dangerous criminals, or barging in to see my boss.

I admit, I had been selfish in this equation. I had told Stephanie that Ranger was back, that he was in the Trenton hospital, that he was injured physically but going to survive.

I hadn't explained his state of mind or mentioned where or when we had found him. I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn't.

I was a coward.

Any one would have handled this situation better than me. Lula. Lester. A bum. My cat. Ranger himself.

Hell, Joe Morelli would have done a better job. Even though he hadn't spoken to her in weeks. Even if she had pretty much deserted him. He wouldn't have alarmed Stephanie of the return of a guy that was so dear to her. A man that held so much emotional power over her. He wouldn't have let her go inside the room and he wouldn't have let her get hurt by that same man.

But Morelli hadn't watched Stephanie slowly deteriorate before his eyes. He hadn't seen her lose weight, lose sleep, or shed tears.

She had been at Rangemen every morning until night. Searching for good news. For any word of Ranger, any sighting. She had asked us where he had been, what mission he had been doing when he disappeared, what he was wearing, when we had last heard from him. Questions upon questions. Until she memorized each and every detail, small and big.

I couldn't keep Stephanie in the dark any longer. Because the sight of her spirit crumbling was far too much for me to handle.

I was not only a chicken. I was also weak.

So I informed her of Ranger's return out of pity. Commanded her to stay away out of concern. And neglected to tell her why out of cowardice.

Now she was lying in a hospital bed with a nasty bruise on her face and a broken nose.

I wasn't as quick as I should have been when Ranger struck. I wanted to say that it was just shock that kept me rooted to the floor but I'm starting to think that it was just pure disbelief.

Never in a million years did I think I would see that unfold right before my eyes.

Stephanie had been crying. But, the strange thing was, I don't think it was the pain that caused her tears -although it must have been excruciating. No, there had been something deeper in her eyes when I carried her out. Something that didn't quite fit.

Compassion.

She had blacked out for a few minutes after wards, which had given me time to get help.

Ram had been patrolling the hallways of the hospital downstairs, receiving information from me and reporting back to the crew back at Rangeman. Ram, who had punched a hole in a wall before because he didn't get two perfectly cut slices of pickles on his McDonald's cheeseburger once, acted in a much, much calmer grace than I. _He_ informed a doctor, _he_ helped carry Stephanie to a room and _he_ stayed with her while the tests were being run on her nose and while the doctors worked on her. Fucking Ram. The man who watched wrestling, fainted at the sight of mice and had a neck the size of a bulldozer made _me _feel like an emotional wreck.

He didn't ask any questions concerning how she had gotten here or what had happened and I could tell he already knew. He would have been downstairs when she came running in. Had he let her pass? Treated her with the same pity as I did?

If so, then he too must have been feeling just as guilty as I was.

Ram called to inform me that Stephanie was waking up and I took my sweet time in ambling down to the room she occupied.

I felt bad.

No, I felt horrible. I felt responsible. I felt overwhelmed. Confused. Defeated. I was reaching at straws. Hoping that the sun would come up tomorrow and Ranger would be fine and Lula would be beside me and all would be well in the world. I didn't want to be the one who had to tell Ranger that he had wounded a woman he loved. I didn't want to face Stephanie with the things I knew. I didn't want to be the one to tell her what was going on. I hated being the bearer of bad news. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere else. I would have done _anything_ to be anywhere else but here.

I was a coward.

_o0o0o0o0o0o_

_Stephanie_

_0o0o0o0oo0_**  
**

_Post traumatic stress Disorder?_

Severe. Anxiety Disorder. Psychological trauma. Certain things could cause it. Death. Threats. Medical procedures. War. Kidnapping. Natural disasters. Abuse.

_Post traumatic STRESS disorder?_

Ranger fell into the kidnapping category. And the threat. And the abuse. They had found him. In the woods of Tanzania, a third world country in East Africa. I knew this because I had researched. I had bugged the information out of the Rangeman crew. I knew he had been on a mission to free a captured relative of a client from rebels. I knew he had disappeared a week into the mission and they had lost contact with him. I knew they had found the bodies of five murdered Rangeman. Including Woody. I knew they had proclaimed him dead after two months passed. Had given up in search of him. It had blown them away. It had devastated them. I knew they had been panicking when I wasn't around. I knew that the loss of their boss and close friends must have completely shaken them up.

What I hadn't known was that Ranger had been captured by the rebels. That he had been tortured. That they had been right about to pack up and leave Africa for good when he came stumbling from the bushes with a bullet hole in his arm. Tears welled up in my eyes as Tank explained. His face was avoid of emotion.

He didn't tell me how he had gotten away.

_Post traumatic stress disorder._

Flash backs. Nightmares. Flaring of emotions. Disorientation. Memory loss. Numbness. Couldn't focus. Trouble sleeping. On edge.

Symptoms. Ranger had all the symptoms.

Which is why he had hit me, Tank continued. Because he hadn't known where he was. Or he thought he was somewhere else. Or he thought_ I_ was someone else.

What were the doctors doing? I asked. Would he get better?

He wasn't showing signs of improvement. He was still too unpredictable. He was getting shots to put him to sleep. He would most likely need therapy. But he should be okay. When he resurfaced from the fog of confusion the disorder had created, he would be able to heal.

I didn't know if this was good news or bad news or good news disguised as bad news but I still offered a shaky smile.

Sometimes, when Ranger woke up, he was fine. He could remember everyone's name. He could recall why he was there. He was logical, he was rational. It felt like he was back to being himself. But then, he would wake up screaming. or yelling. Or cursing. Or swinging. He would flail about in bed until he had to be restrained and put back to sleep. Those were the worst times. It was obvious that he was mentally ill. Severely. He needed time. To realize that he was no longer in danger.

I would have been informed of all of this sooner or later. Probably when he was making a full recovery. Because Ranger wouldn't have liked to have this out in the open. He wouldn't have wanted me to see him this way. And, he wouldn't have meant to hurt me.

Tank was saying all of this but I could barely comprehend.

_Ranger_. He had post traumatic stress disorder. Which meant something terrible had happened. Something had agonized him to the point of causing his whole psychological state to collapse. The guy who took a bullet without flinching. The guy who didn't eat sweets. The guy who dressed in all black, ran a company, commanded respect and fear. The man who spent so much time protecting me could no longer protect himself.

I felt like throwing up.

My heart was like lead in my chest and I clutched at it. My nose, fractured, throbbed. A headache crept into my forehead. I wanted to be mad at someone but I didn't know who to blame. Tank. The Rangeman crew. Myself. The rebels. One moment, I would feel betrayed by Ranger. Furious at him. Furious at what he had done to me. That he could even do something like that.

But then I remembered what he had gone through. What he was_ still_ going through. He was suffering.

My emotions sent me spiraling. I couldn't fault Ranger for something he couldn't control.

I kept replaying the screen in my head. Me running to his side. Him grabbing my wrist. Me smiling. Him punching.

My conscious told me that I should have been scared. That I should have left. That Ranger was too volatile to be around. And, although I agreed, I knew I couldn't go now.

When Tank and Ram left to give me some time to digest this tragic news, I could see from their expressions that they felt sorry for me. Ram had asked me a million times if I was okay, if my face hurt, did I need more drugs to dull the pain?

They felt guilty, maybe embarrassed. This situation was new to them. Ranger being virtually helpless was new to them.

Well it was new to me too. But I wasn't going to waste any time sulking. Ideas were already buzzing behind my eyes. And the main question running through my mind was,

_How was I going to bring Ranger back to me?_

_o0o0o0oo0_

_Ranger_

_0o0o0o0o0o_

Everything was fuzzy.

Bright lights. Voices. Pain. Thoughts. I couldn't focus. I could barely see.

I was sitting somewhere. White walls. Black blurs. I was at a carnival. There were monkeys screeching and hooting around me.

No. No. That didn't even sound plausible. I didn't go to carnivals.

_Focus, damn it._

I was laying somewhere. I couldn't move my arms. I was sleeping. No. I was awake. No. I was dreaming. So much white. Was I dreaming?

Ranger. Focus.

I was at my grandma's house. I can smell cookies. The aroma wrapped around me. I felt cocooned.

Gunshots. Gunshots.

_In my Grandma's house?_

No. In the woods. I was running. Through the woods. A bullet whizzed past my ear. One hit my arm.

Pain. Fear. Hot. Sweating.

My heart was beating crazily. I was hungry for escape. I kept running. _I had to get away. I had to get away._

Suddenly, I was melting away. Like a painted picture being drenched in water. The whiteness was back. The blurs. Someone was beside me. I reached out. The person leaned in.

_Stephanie._

Blue eyes. Brown hair. Smiling. Was I dreaming? Please. Don't let this be a dream. I opened my mouth. To tell her I missed her. To let her know how much I wanted her. How much I had craved-

She was gone. And, in her place, were violent, crazed eyes. A scar adorned his cheek. Gritty, dirty, yellow teeth. Ragged clothing. Evil smirk.

It had all been an illusion. I was still with the rebels.

I swung. He went down. I lurched. The rebels pushed me back. They tied my hands. I yelled in rage. Something stabbed my neck.

The world began to retreat. I struggled to stay awake. The darkness invaded my mind. I felt myself fading. _I had to get away. I had to get away._

The last thing I glimpsed was Stephanie in tears.


	3. Chapter Two : Unraveling

**Chapter Two : Unraveling  
**

_o0o0o0o0o0o_

_Tank_

_0o0o0o0o0oo0_

He was lying there, looking lifeless. The only thing that told me he was still breathing was the steady hum and beep of the machines that were connected to him. His chest, bare, was pale in contrast to regular hue and adorned his cuts. His face was littered with bruises, his hair was mussed.

The nurses had done all they could do to help his injuries. His ribs were wrapped up, his head was wrapped up, his leg was in a cast. At the moment, he was restrained and, most likely, drugged. He would often be tied down to stop him from thrashing around and hurting himself.

A nurse was at his side now, taking his temperature, checking his blood pressure. She treated him like he was just another hurt civilian that would heal back up just right. All smiley and talking to him like he was awake. Like he had never woken up and caused any body harm.

It was eerie. To see Ranger in this state. I watched him from the far wall, where the doctors had made me promise to stand if I insisted on being in his room. And even though I didn't fear him, I obeyed their wishes. The staff was afraid of me, afraid of Ranger as well, afraid of our whole damn team. I didn't blame them. We were imposing, we wore nothing but black, we stood stoic, we weren't to be messed with. I saw no real reason in staying away if he was tied down but I didn't want any trouble. They were kind enough to treat him so I'd be kind enough to do whatever they asked.

I folded my arms and leaned back, trying to place the emotions I felt. I was worried, angry, agitated.

But, the worst of all, I was lost.

When I left Stephanie behind to digest the news I had given her, Ram faced me in the hallway and asked, "What's our next move?"

It took that question, uttered from one of the men I've been working with for over five years, to realize something that almost made my knees buckle.

I had no idea what to do.

It was the first time in over eleven years that I had ever felt like this. Aside from my escapades with Lula, that is. That woman had me trying all sorts of things I was unprepared for. Dancing, for example. I had two left feet.

But this was more serious. I was the leader, by unvoiced vote, this everyone knew. I was the next in charge, right hand man. After all, when Ranger was out of town, I always stepped to the plate. But even then, I was taking orders from him. I was doing what he advised me to do, what he needed me to do.

I didn't know what he wanted me to do at this point. I didn't know what needed to be done. I had already fucked up big time with trying to protect Stephanie for his sake. God only knew what I would do in a few hours. In a few days. Months. How long would I stay in charge? How long would Ranger remain this way?

I had turned to Ram, and with the most bravado I could muster, said, "I'm going to stay here and if anything happens, I'll call. You head back to Rangeman. Inform the guys to continue as if nothing had ever changed."

Ram had looked concerned. He had noticed me hesitating. Throughout the entire three months, I had been in complete disarray. Client phone calls weren't being answered, jobs weren't being done. I had been in the mode. I had ordered nothing but searches for Ranger. Somewhere in between that madness, I realized my mistake and set about to make Rangeman what it use to be. It was hard. We had pretty much lost all of our inventory, clients and, furthermore, determination. But we were steadily building back up. In a few weeks, we should be back and it'd be nothing but another reminder of how I had failed Ranger yet again.

"I could stay, sir, if you want." He had offered.

"I think it's best if I did." Ranger would have done the same if roles were reversed, I was sure.

"What about Stephanie?"

I didn't have to ask to know what he meant. Even Ram knew that she would be a problem. She was too damn stubborn. She would want to see Ranger again. "I'll take care of her."

He turned to go, stopped and then gave me a sidelong glance. "What do you think is going to happen? When he regains his sense?"

Hopefully, take over as the leader again. Comfort Stephanie. Get well. Laugh and joke about it. Pat us all on the back. Give us all a day off. And never ever put himself in such a grave predicament again. I smiled but couldn't make it reach my eyes. "I think he'll be just fine."

Ram had smiled too but it didn't take a genius to see that neither one of us believed it.

I glared at Ranger now and tried to will him awake. _Wake up, give me a sign, use fucking telekinesis. Something. What the hell do you want me to do?_

All I got in return was a beep from the monitor.

I sighed and left. Once outside in the hall, I clenched my fists and cursed violently under my breath. Trying to get anything out of Ranger right now was hopeless. I would have to stop dwelling on the things I couldn't control and deal with the things I could. Like Stephanie.

I took out my phone and dialed. As it rung, I realized how absurd this conversation would be.

When I was done explaining to the man on the other end, I heard someone say, "Uh oh. I know that look. Who has your boxers in a knot?"

I wasn't sure if I was happy or irritated to see Lula standing beside me, hands on hips, eyebrows raised. One part of me inflated with joy and the other erupted with rage. I hung up the phone and asked, "What are you doing here?"

Lula pursed her lips. "Now, that's not how you're suppose to speak to your girlfriend. The woman who you supposed to love and adore. After it took me damn near a hour to convince them nurses to let me up here, that's the thanks I get?"

I smiled. She was dressed in the brightest green pants I ever saw and a neon blue halter top with a leopard jacket. Her hair was bright red, her heels were at last a thousand inches high. She was probably the biggest lunatic I knew. The craziest woman I ever met. The only person who would wake up every morning and try NOT to match. I was sure she hadn't "convinced" anyone to let her come up here. She probably ranted and raved until they grew too tired to argue with her. Lula was like a bull when she was on a mission. Un-fucking-stoppable.

And I loved her in spite of those things. Or because of them. I wasn't entirely sure which yet. Although I was positive I did love her. I had been working up the courage to tell her and I think by 2076, I might be halfway there.

"I like your outfit." I told her and got a little smirk in return.

"I hope you aren't making fun of me, big guy. Because I got a shotgun in my purse."

I laughed out loud at that. Even though I knew a shotgun wouldn't fit in a purse that small, I took a cautionary step back. Underestimating Lula was not wise.

"Stephanie called me." She was saying, hiking up her purse. "Said she was at the hospital and that she probably wouldn't be in today. And I was concerned, ya know? So I asked her what was wrong but she wouldn't tell me. Then I ran into Ram on the way over and learned that Ranger's back." She eyed me angrily but there was a smile on her lips. "How come no one told me? Well? Where's he at? Is he okay?"

I gave her a pained expression. "He is back. And I guess you can say he's okay. He's not in the best of shape, however."

Lula's grin faded. "What do you mean?" There was a hint of terror in her voice. She knew all about Ranger and his disappearance as well. She had stayed with me through it all. Had seen me at my weakest points, saw every little emotion I tried to hide. It was one of the reasons I hadn't phone to tell her. I didn't want her to see how aggravated I was.

I sighed. "He went through a lot, Lu. More than I want to imagine. It put him in a bad spot."

"So, what? You're saying he's depressed or something?"

That'd be putting it mildly.

"I've never saw Ranger in a funk before."

I almost laughed at that. Neither had I. "It's much more serious than that."

"What could be more serious? He's not hurt is he?"

"Physically, he's pretty banged up. But the wounds will heal."

"Well lets just cheer him up. Hell, with you, me and Stephanie, we'll get him up and at 'im. This is Ranger we're talking about. He won't be down for long. We'll have him throwing people out of windows in no time." She glanced around. "Where is the white girl, by the way?"

I opened my mouth to reply but a nurse came skirting out of the room and looked at me. "Mr. Manoso is up. And he's asking for a woman named Stephanie."

0o0o0o0o

_Morelli_

_0o0o0o0o  
_

Everything was all wrong.

Something was in air. Some black aura. A demonic one. I could feel it.

It sounds silly to admit this aloud but I came from a family of the supernatural. It's true. My grandma Bella is the perfect example. She has this thing, calls it the evil eye. It can bring bad luck to a person. All she has to do is glare at someone with it and their hair will catch on fire or their balls with fall off. I'm serious. I grew up with my Grandma. I saw the power be put to use. It's fucking scary. I try my best to play if off and act like she's crazy but, deep down, I believe. Not because I want to, per se but because I just.._.know_.

Suffice it to say, I've acquired a bit of her talent. But it's not that I cause bad things to happen.

I just feel them coming.

It always starts off the same. I get this weird sensation in the back of my neck, like something is crawling around under my skin. Then my palms get sweaty and my heart starts to beat in rapid succession. My doctor says it's just my nerves, and that they're just mini panic attacks. But he can't explain why, when I get them, something bad ALWAYS happens after wards. It's damn frightening sometimes.

For the most part however, I've gotten use to them. Thanks to a certain brown haired female named Stephanie Plum. 99% of the time, she's the cause of it.

And this time is no exception. The invisible creepy crawly creature was at my neck five minutes before my cell phone rang. My hands got damp as soon as I answered and my heart was hammering against my chest when Tank finished explaining from the other line and hung up the phone.

I got to the hospital relatively fast although I don't recall getting in my car or speeding down there. Probably because my mind was filling up with the things that Tank had relayed to me, drowning me in concern.

According to the large man, Ranger was back.

Ranger, who had been declared dead a month ago while on some mission across the world, was back.

Ranger, who had stolen Stephanie away from me without even being present, was back.

It hadn't been hard to see that Stephanie and I just weren't the way we use to be. She was attached, so damn attached, to finding him. She spent nights with Tank and the others while they waited for any news on their boss. She drove around endlessly, as if Ranger would be sitting in a corner of Trenton, waiting to be found. She called his cell phone every day, just on the off chance that he would pick up. She barely slept or ate. She had nightmares about him. She focused on him, zeroed in on him.

She left me. Not physically. But mentally and emotionally. Even subconsciously. She choose him over me. Something I still could barely comprehend. It didn't take long for her to leave me for good.

According to Tank, Ranger was in "critical condition." He said nothing further about him.

Then he started to speak about the_ real_ reason he had phoned me. About Stephanie needing my help. The information shocked me. How long had I waited to hear that again?

It was even more surprising to hear it uttered from Tank, of all people. Because it wasn't everyday that I got a call from him. We weren't friends, we weren't acquaintances, we weren't even colleagues. Our relationship began and ended at Stephanie, the love of my long, miserable life. He was Ranger's right hand man at his company, Rangeman. A company full of men dressed in black, loyal to a fault and doing shady things. They were not a group I trusted. But, then again, nothing about Ranger as trustworthy, in my humble opinion.

But when it involved Stephanie, I'd do anything.

That was why I was plowing into the hospital room, asking for her and praying that she was okay.


	4. Chapter Three : Cracked

**Chapter Three : Cracked**

0o0o0o000o0

Ranger

0o0o0o0o0o0

_My head hurt. Badly._

I felt disorientated and unbalanced. Like the world was spinning too fast. The gravity seemed to lessen and I was flying, floating in the air. There was so much white and it was blinding me.

_Damn, my head was in agony._

When I broke through the haze of light, I could see someone standing before me. Auburn colored hair, bright brown eyes, dressed in an outfit that jogged some of my memory. She was a nurse. There were white walls around us, a window to the side, tubes were hooked up to me, beeping and whirling. I was in the hospital. Why was I in the hospital?

_Was someone pummeling my head with a hammer?_

Rebels. I was with the rebels. No, I had _been_ with the rebels. Being tortured and mutilated. I felt my throat tighten at the thought and I broke out in a sweat. The nurse was saying something to me, holding my gaze but her words were deaf in my ears. All I could hear were the echoes of screams. Terrible, guttural cries of pain. My eyes flashed left and right, my heart started to beat erratically. The shrieks continued. It took me awhile to realize that they were coming out of my mouth.

_God, my head. It hurt like hell.  
_

The nurse was touching my arm now and I flinched back. I went to raise my hand to swat her away but they wouldn't move. I glanced down to see that they were wrapped down under large, brown straps. My eyes widened and a large ball of panic started to expand in my chest. Who had strapped me down? Why was I strapped down?

The rebels. This was all a mirage. I was still with the rebels. They had restrained me. Visions flashed before my eyes. Ugly scar, yellow teeth, nasty breath, wicked smirk. A curved sword in hand. The ball of panic exploded and my chest started to heave up and down.

"Please, you have to calm down." The lady was telling me, taking me back to the present. The rebels were no longer here. My team had found me. Or had I found them? Yes. I had busted from the foliage. I had ran right into them.

The nurse was staring at me in concern. "I think you might be having a panic attack. Breathe, just breathe. Everything is okay."

Everything was not okay. Everything was not even partially close to being okay. My head was throbbing, my chest was constricting, I couldn't move my arms or legs. I wheezed. I tried to speak but I couldn't get air to my lungs. I was having a panic attack? I never had panic attacks.

"Listen to me. You have to breathe, okay? Calmly now. Do as I do."

As I pantomimed her, a picture suddenly flashed in my mind. Brown curly hair, blue eyes, soft smile. I could remember seeing her before. She had been crying. "Where is she? Where is Stephanie?" I croaked out desperately. The lady stared at me with eyebrows furrowed and then she was gone, off to get the woman I had requested, hopefully. If there was anyone who could bring peace to the madness in my world, it would be her.

Then more memories came back to my mind and I felt stupid, so stupid.

_"I'll find them." He had sneered at me. "I'll find every person you love and make them wish they'd never known you."_

How could I have asked for her? How could I have put her in danger? They would find her now, they would kidnap her.

Wait, no. I was in the hospital now. I was no longer with them. They were far away from here. I was safe.

Wasn't I?

I was obviously discombobulated. I could barely distinguish left from right. I was only slightly positive that I was safe in this place. What if this was all a guise? What if the rebels really were here? I willed my brain to remember, to search for any memory after crashing into my team but I couldn't find any. What if we hadn't gotten away in time? What if they had exterminated my whole team?

I couldn't be sure. I was too jumbled. All I could concentrate on was Stephanie.

It surprised me. That I needed her so much right now and that I prayed she would stay away, just in case.

I wasn't sure if I was happy or disappointed when Tank swam into my vision. I could see his face and it was clear of scars. He was hovering over me and I squinted up at him. His expression was a mix of confusion and indecision. "Why am I tied down?" Was the first thing I asked.

He glanced away and I saw that someone else was in the room. A tall, slim man with short, dark cropped hair in a long, white coat. A doctor. The man nodded and Tank glanced back at me. "To keep you from hurting yourself." He replied.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why would I hurt myself?"

This time the man in the white coat answered. "You often do by flailing around. Not intentionally, of course. You're confused and frightened, which is natural for a man who has gone through what you've gone through."

I glanced between them. How much had Tank told? "I...I don't understand."

"I believe that you're suffering, Mr. Manoso." The doctor stated, stepping forward. His eyes were soft and compassionate. "From Post Traumatic Stress disorder."

"What?" No, that couldn't be. I had never suffered from any major mental illness. "You're mistaken. I'm fine."

Tank looked pained. "Are you?"

No, I instantly thought, not even a little.

"My name is Doctor Elliot." The man explained. "We've been monitoring you since you've been here. You've awaken twenty two times and seventeen of those times, you've been violent and incomprehensible. You've even struck out at others and have had nightmares that leave you writhing in bed and screaming."

I closed my eyes against the pain in my head and the words he was uttering. "No." I whispered.

"Although I'm not licensed to diagnose this officially, I've seen these symptoms many times beforehand."

I glared at him, hoping it'd frighten him into silence but he continued.

"I'm sure you've been having visions, possibly reliving through the trauma."

"No. You don't know what you're talking about."

"You wake up confused, not knowing where you are or who's around you. You have panic attacks. You become-"

"SHUT UP!"

They took steps back, startled. I blinked, surprised by my own exclamation. Dr. Elliot gave me a sad look before finishing his statement. "-angered very quickly."

I shook my head furiously which proved to be idiotic because the pain multiplied. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine." I rasped out.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Manoso, for the terrible events that have happened. But we are only trying to help. I understand that it's difficult, dealing with this, but we are doing all we can to make it easier."

I felt my hands clench. "This is ridiculous. Let me up. I have things to do."

"I'm sorry but I can't do that." Doctor Elliot told me. "I'm afraid you're much too unstable to leave, let alone unstrap. A psychiatrist is coming down to assess you but, until then, you must remain here."

Unstable? Psychiatrist? "I'm not crazy." I growled.

"That's not what I'm trying to say-"

"I don't need a psychiatrist. I don't need to be here. Where is Stephanie?" I turned to Tank and saw an emotion flicker across his face. It could have been anger or sadness or anything. Worry hit me hard. "Tank, what's going on? Is Stephanie okay?"

Tank just stared.

"This guy has no idea what I'm going through. He doesn't know anything. I'm not unstable. I'm fine. Get someone to let me go."

Instead of addressing my statements, Tank glanced at the doctor who nodded and walked out. He then turned back to me and asked. "Bossman, how much do you remember?"

I remembered getting the mission to travel to Africa and rescue the daughter of a man from rebels. I remembered leaving Trenton, arriving in another country, tracking down the renegade group. I remembered getting ambushed. remembered hearing Woody scream, remembered seeing him dead. I remembered being captured and beaten. And I remembered finding Lester and Hal and Tank in the woods. The rest was fuzzy or nonexistent. I couldn't tell how much time had passed, had no idea what the date was or how long I had been gone. I told Tank this and he sighed a deep, heavy sigh.

"As soon as we saw you, we got you out of there. Flew you to the nearest hospital and got you checked out. You mumbled a lot, indiscernible things, but you didn't wake up right away." He paused, took a deep breath. "While you were unconscious, they did some work on the bruises you had. There were...so many." He stopped again and I thought I saw something mirroring pain in his eyes. "We transferred you to Trenton only when they deemed it safe for you to travel. You've been here for a few hours. I...you weren't yourself. As the doctor stated, you would wake up agitated. You yelled at the staff to let you go. You saw us as enemies, Ranger, not as the people we were."

I opened my mouth to speak but I didn't know what to say.

"You've been gone for three months."

A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

"You have been having flashbacks, haven't you?"

After a moment, I nodded slowly. God, how I wished I wasn't.

"We thought you were improving. Lately, you would rise and know exactly what was going on. But then your eyes would glaze over and you'd be somewhere else. This is the longest you've held a conversation. Which is good. You're making progress."

I glanced down at my arms and felt a sudden helplessness tug at my heart. I had wanted, so desperately, to be okay. For this all to be a misunderstanding. When I glanced back up at Tank, I worked to keep my face blank and my voice placid. "You think I'm crazy too."

"You're not crazy, Ranger."

"Sane people aren't tied down to hospital beds."

"Now, I never said you were sane. If you were, I don't think I'd work for you." He was smiling, joking. In spite of myself, I twitched my mouth into a small smirk.

My smile quickly faded however. "How bad is it?"

Tank didn't even have to ask what I was referring to. His face got hard and he replied stonily. "Five casualties, ten wounded."

"I saw Woody...before they took me. He was...they...how is he?"

A suffocating silence filled the room. "He's gone."

There was a sharp pain in my chest and I went to grab at it before remembering I couldn't use my arms. Then another picture popped in my head for what seemed like the billionth time. "And Stephanie? I saw her...she had been crying. Is she here? At the hospital?" Had she saw me like this? Was that why she was crying?

Tank seemed to stiffen. "She's here and...okay, for the most part." He seemed like he wanted to say more but didn't. Suddenly, I wanted to know everything about her. How she looked, what she'd been up to while I was gone, if she was happy I was back. I wanted to hug her and kiss her and tell her how stupid I was for running us in circles. I wanted to tell her that I could be a better man than Morelli, that I had thought about her every single day, that I needed her. I wanted to let her know that I loved her.

My eyes became blurred for a moment and when they focused again, I was in the jungle. I was lying on the ground, my body was torn. Two men were hovering over me, dressed in camouflage. One of them had a jagged knife in their hand. He grinned down at me maliciously.

"Rangeman!"

I blinked and Tank was back, staring at me hard.

"You okay? You turned pale."

I glanced at Tank and breathed in deep. "Get Stephanie away from here."

Tank's eyebrows raised, obviously taken aback. "But I thought you wanted to see her."

"I changed my mind. Don't let her anywhere near me." I said fiercely. I turned away. If only to avoid his stares of confusion. Stephanie deserved a man who could provide for her, would could love her and cherish her and treat her good.

But me? I'm sick and beaten up and dangerous and helpless. I'm an idiot who didn't realize how beautiful and amazing she was until my life was in danger. I could barely comprehend where I was half of the time or who was with me. I lashed out at innocent people. I could no longer control my emotions. It was like I was splitting in two and falling apart.

Stephanie wouldn't want me.

I was broken.


End file.
